Panakeia's Glass
by Tanima no Himeyuri
Summary: A young bartender opens his shop in southern Tōkyō. Little does he know, however, that his bar—Capital Bar Shiro—will become the watering grounds for a veritable cadre of Tōtsuki Culinary Academy alumni and affiliates. Whether he likes it or not, fresh bar owner Sasanuki Takahisa will have to serve and balance the conflicts and relations between an unparalleled culinary force.


光の中では見えないものが暗闇の中ではよく見える  
雨、風、晴れ、寒さから幸不幸は全て天の仕業  
海流のような星座に人は燃えるように凍えるように  
三度願いを願う  
一群の煌めき、五十星団

Glass I: Hakushū Highball

* * *

[5:00 AM, March 2nd, 2013— Jiyūgaoka, Meguro, Tōkyō, Japan]

The silence of the end of night was broken by a sharp, metallic rattling. In these precious few hours before dawn, few were awake. One man that was, however, pulled up the rolling door to a storefront in one swift motion. This perfectly average black-haired-brown-eyed young man, bundled up in a thin woolen coat, shivered as he entered the front door. Even starting at 3:00, there was little time to spare to finish up the prep work for his grand opening. He took off the coat and folded it up, revealing a starched white shirt, black vest, and thin black tie—the standard monochrome garb for the man's profession. Before heading to the back and beginning prep work, he gave the crooked stainless-steel sign at the front a quick adjustment.

Capital Bar Shiro.

The bar owned and run by this young man—Sasanuki Takahisa—a bar across from Tōkyō's Jiyūgaoka station awaiting its grand opening. The traditional wooden door out front hid a slick, minimalist interior—white walls, concrete floors, sleek steel stools, tables, and chairs, as well as angular hanging lamps—all suggested that this was one of many new-wave bars flooding Tōkyō in recent years. The only piece that seemed out of place at all was the old, roughshod—yet at the same time meticulously well-kept—non-lacquered wooden bar counter that dominated the space, a relic of the traditional bars and cocktail dens hidden throughout Tōkyō. The space in the bar itself was small compared to new-age chain bars, yet significantly larger than classic alley bars: the bar counter itself could house nine drinkers, while three tables were there to each welcome groups of up to four.

With a quick flick, Takahisa turned on all the lights in the bar, instantly inviting a warm, comforting ambience into the room. He rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

The next several hours were filled with frantic, but precise labor. First, a traditional wiping of every single bottle behind the bar—both to keep the bartender's workspace clean, as well as to refresh the position of each and every bottle in his mind. Then, the sterilizing and cleaning of every surface either liquor or a customer could touch in the bar. A knock and call at the front door meant the day's ice had arrived; this prompted the young man to head upon the waking city to buy his daily perishables and most importantly, breakfast.

A one-hour excursion yielded a bounty of limes, lemons, oranges, mint, cucumbers, apples—and a single grilled mackerel bentō.

After breaking for lunch, then washing his hands to rid the fishy smell, the bartender was quick to begin carving his ice. A wide variety of ice for shaking, ice for stirring both tall and short drinks, rocks ice, and more slowly filled Capital Bar Shiro's below-bar freezer. Then, fruit had to be washed, dried, then either put on the shelf or in the refrigerator. Finally, every single glass and bar tool in the establishment was meticulously washed, dried, and polished until they were sparkling clean.

After twelve hours of nearly continuous work, Sasanuki Takahisa straightened out his outfit, then went out front to finally open his bar to customers.

6:00 PM, March 2nd, 2013 marked the grand opening of Capital Bar Shiro.

* * *

[6:29 PM, Jiyūgaoka Station]

The eastbound Tōkyū Ōimachi Line had just stopped at Jiyūgaoka Station, and a horde of haggard salarymen, exhausted from a long day of work, streamed off the train. Among them, one man stood out in particular. A tall, powerful man with long, brown hair carelessly swept back—Yukihira Jōichirō. Contrary to his fellow passengers, Jōichirō didn't seem tired at all. In fact, he was flowing with a sort of carefree energy that manifested in his bounding steps. He effortlessly picked up his large suitcase and swung his brown briefcase over his shoulder as he walked down the platform.

Pausing briefly at the stairs, Jōichirō glanced down and checked his watch. It seemed as though he had plenty of time to spare before catching his next train. Why not head out and explore Jiyūgaoka for a bit?

As he stepped out of the ticket gates, he took a good look around him, taking in all of the sights, sounds, and smells of south Tōkyō. Jiyūgaoka was known to be a rather stylish neighborhood, and his surroundings didn't disappoint. South of the station stood a sleek, modern, confectionary, a classic cheese tart shop, and a soba-ya. Northwards, there were plenty of posh boutiques. And immediately across the street was a couple of chain cafés, a bookstore… and a bar with a modest grand opening banner across the top.

Jōichirō smiled broadly. It was his last evening in Japan, he could afford to let loose with a drink or two. And so he crossed the street, slid open the door to Capital Bar Shiro, and stepped in.

"Welcome! Please sit wherever you please. You can leave your coat at the coatrack, and I can take your suitcase behind the bar."

Jōichirō looked inside the bar. It was small and… completely empty. Not a great sign to be sure, but he would give it a shot. There really was nothing better to do, after all. He stepped up to the bar and sat down on a stool.

The bartender looked up and smiled, "Have you decided on your order, sir?"

Setting down his briefcase, Jōichirō matched the bartender's gaze, "Give me the cocktail that I'm craving right now."

Takahisa stood still but for a split second before setting out the necessary bottles and tools he would be using.

"Understood, your order has been received."

One green bottle of Suntory Hakushū 12 Years Old, one bottle of soda water, one highball glass, and one classic spiral bar spoon.

He pushed forward the whisky bottle for a split second to explain, "The 12 Year Hakushū was released in 1994, twenty-one years after the Hakushū Distillery was opened in Yamanashi Prefecture by Saji Keizō. It's definitely a popular whisky, and is very pure, clean, and smooth. Please note the pear and light smoke notes common to the nose and palate."

With methodical action, Takahisa got to work. First, he placed one long stick of ice in the highball glass, then stirred until frost ringed the glass. He removed the ice and poured out the excess water. Two perfect cubes of hard ice were pulled from the freezer and stacked into the glass.

To chill and add mild dilution, the whisky was stirred quickly, but gently, exactly thirteen-and-a-half times, with the back of the bar spoon gently grazing the sides of the glass. He added a third ice cube that reached perfectly to the top of the highball glass, then topped the whisky with soda water. The final step was to give the whisky and soda water mix one quick stir to barely incorporate. The garnish was one mint sprig floated on top.

In one fluid, practiced motion, Sasanuki Takahisa pulled the bar spoon up from the glass, swiped it over the back of his hand to leave a few drops behind, then took a swift taste.

Perfectly done.

"Thank you for waiting. Please enjoy," Takahisa said, as he gently placed the glass onto a coaster and slid it forwards.

Jōichirō took a long drink and set it down.

The booziness of the pure Hakushū was almost entirely washed away by the soda water, letting the whisky's enticing peatiness come to the forefront. This peatiness was supported by light notes of pear and smoke, strengthened by isolation. Each bubble from the soda water popped to reveal a light, honeyed lemon finish alongside the classic sweet grassy nose of the Hakushū 12 Years Old. The final stir at the end left velvety layers of pure whisky suspended in the glass, surrounded with sharper layers of bubbly soda water and the subtle fruitiness of completely mixed highball. The purer whisky layers kept their strength as well as a silky smooth mouthfeel and palate, while the layers of pure soda water helped cleanse the palate for another sip.

Jōichirō leaned back and let out a huge sigh.

"It's fantastic, but I'm wondering why would you think the cocktail I'm craving right now is a whisky highball? I may not look it, but I am quite a well-versed chef, you know. Isn't this a 'lil too simple?"

Takahisa turned around from wiping off his bar spoon to answer, "There are a couple of things that clued me in, if that's alright with you."

"Go right ahead," Jōichirō leaned back in his still with a slight smile.

"I usually don't reveal the secrets behind a bartender's intuition, but there's no other customers right now, so we have the time. First of all, you came in with both a briefcase and a suitcase. Usually, that means that you would be going on some kind of trip."

"That's right, but it's a little too obvious, don't you think?"

"Of course, that's not enough to make any kind of conclusion yet. You could be traveling by train or plane. The second clue is your outfit. You're wearing a loose, breathable long tee, and your belt is slightly looser than it usually would be."

Takahisa reached to place his bar spoon back in a glass of water before continuing.

"If you were traveling with the Shinkansen or on a short flight, you would probably be fine just wearing everyday work clothes, or maybe something a bit more formal. A longer flight, however, means that you need to wear something that won't block circulation, a looser and more casual outfit. The longest domestic flight you can make from Tōkyō is to Okinawa, which is around three and a half hours—not nearly enough to warrant that kind of outfit. From this, I guessed that you are making your way to a long, international flight today."

"I'm damn impressed, that's right. But how do you know I am actually going on a flight, and I don't just dress like this all the time, huh?"

The bartender let out a small smile, "That's simply my instinct as a bartender~."

Jōichirō leaned forwards and shook his head, "Even with all that, it still doesn't explain why you gave me a highball."

"There's not many customers coming in yet, so would you mind if I indulge myself with a short lecture?"

"Fine with me—go right ahead."

"Well then, to start with, let me say that I believe that the highball is the most fundamentally Japanese cocktail there is. Of course, this is even taking into account the near half-century the highball spent in existence before coming to Japan—given that as far as we know, it was first mixed in the last decade of the 19th century, and came to Japan in the 1950's. At this time, adding soda water to whisky was a measure to extend the lifespan of a bottle and have an inexpensive drink. In the following two decades, with Japan's economic miracle, the highball transformed into the drink of choice for businessmen newly empowered with disposable income. By the time the Lost Decade hit, however, whisky had been declining, being increasingly seen as an old man's drink. By 2000, the whisky highball had more or less disappeared from most menus."

The bartender paused for a brief moment to put back the highball glass.

"It actually wasn't until very recently that the Japanese highball has seen its explosive resurgence. And it's all due to an advertising campaign. You see, since 2008, Suntory has been heavily promoting the highball to a younger audience. They aggressively sought out izakaya and convinced them to put Suntory highballs on their menus. Two years ago, Suntory also introduced _highball bars_ , with an emphasis on highballs built on premium-quality whiskies. I'm quite confident that it was this advertising campaign that firmly planted the highball into the modern Japanese ethos."

"Alright then, but could you just get to why me leaving the country warrants a highball? I'm nearly done with the drink, after all."

"Of course, dear customer. Ah, by the way, people generally say that a long cocktail should be finished within ten minutes, so this is perfect timing. Anyways, this last conclusion is the farthest reach, if only because I'm not sure whether your feelings on Japan, or even a highball at the least. You could hate the country and be leaving forever, for all I know. So I took a mild gamble. As I've said before, the highball has been through a lot of transformations in Japan—from the poor man's drink to the rich man's. I don't think it's a stretch to say that for most Japanese people, a whisky highball would be their most drank cocktail through their life. Whatever you feel about yourself leaving Japan, however long it may be, I am confident that the highball is the perfect representative cocktail of this nation and her people. Now, if this is a nostalgic memento, a forlorn farewell, or even a symbol of Japanese mediocrity, that's up to you to decide."

"I'll take it as a pleasant reminder instead, something to keep me tied back to Japan," Jōichirō replied as he slid his glass forwards. "I will say again, that was very impressive. I can't say that I was craving a highball in particular, I will give you its symbolic significance. And, of course, the cocktail was delicious. Unfortunately, I wish I could stay longer, but I do have a flight to catch."

"Certainly. Your bill is ¥500—I imagine you don't want to start up a tab if you'll be leaving tonight," Takahisa replied with a soft smile.

"Ha, that is the case isn't it. By the way, how old are you anyways? You look young to be mixing such a well-made cocktail," Jōichirō asked as he pushed forward a single bill and stood up from his stool.

"As of today, I'm 23 years of age."

"Oh, a grand opening and a birthday eh? That's definitely young for a bartender already able to own his own bar. You're pretty promising."

Jōichirō began walking towards the door before turning his head back.

"Oh right, my name is Yukihira Jōichirō, and as of today, I'm a wandering chef. In return, let me know your own name, will you?"

The bartender entered a deep bow and replied, "Sasanuki Takahisa. It's been a pleasure to serve you, Yukihira-san—thank you very much for your patronage, and I hope you'll come visit again."

"I'll be sure to."

* * *

As the door shut, Takahisa turned back to the bar. It was only the beginning of the evening, after all, and soon enough, a veritable swarm of tired, thirsty salarymen would likely mob Capital Bar Shiro. A short loosening of his tie and a single Seven Stars cigarette would be the only rest he could afford before he went back behind the bar counter, readying himself for a long night's work.

As the door slid shut, Jōichirō slung his briefcase back over his shoulder and walked back to the station. In this midst of his long strides, he took a quick pause and looked back, recalling an old conversation with a friend of his.

"Sasanuki Takahisa... So that was the Panakeia's Glass, huh. Interesting, I'll be back for sure," he murmured.

With that, he walked back to the station. There was a northbound Tōkyū Tōyoko Line train waiting for him, then a train to Narita Airport, and then a long flight out of Japan. For the time being, Jōichirō didn't know quite how long he would be out of the country. And as it turns out, that Hakushū highball would be Yukihira Jōichirō's last drink in Japan for nearly seven months.

* * *

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

 _Shokugeki no Sōma_ is a quintessential shōnen manga, and it's great for some brainless fun. Especially so when I was younger. As I've aged, however, so have my tastes—for the most part. So let's turn this series on its head and write a seinen piece about it. I've taken some mild inspiration from _Shinya Shokudō_. My impetus for writing this was twofold: 1) there's a ton of older characters in _Shokugeki no Sōma_ who haven't really been explored much in-universe due to the fact that, well, it's primarily a school setting; 2) drinking is fun! especially with friends, or at least drinking buddies. there's a lot of beauty to be had in the world of cocktails, which, while not falling under the domain of culinary arts, is definitely an art form all its own. Please try out any drinks described in this story, as they're all nice—but only if you're of age, and please remember, drink safely.

For some other unorganized thoughts:

-Uni is kicking my ass, so my perennial flaw of huge update times remains. Sorry.

-This story will follow the timeline of the manga as faithfully as I can. Sorry if I slip up somewhere and please let me know.

-I haven't drank Hakushū in a while. Sorry if my description is off.

-For later chapters, I decided to put Tōtsuki in Den-en-chōfu. There's a few reasons, particularly given the geography and history of the area, as well as the fact that I just like the area. By the way, Jiyūgaoka—and thus Capital Bar Shiro—is just one station over on the Tōkyū Tōyoko Line. It's a nice place and everyone should visit. Not gonna say sorry here.

-Honestly, our bartender in question wasn't supposed to have a name, à la the Master in _Shinya Shokudō_. But writing "young man" and "bartender" too much got on my nerves, and to be honest I was too lazy to find a better solution. Plus, adding an OC adds a good impetus and basis for developing characters that aren't as present in the original work.

-There's some great videos on YouTube of bartender Ueno Hidetsugu of Bar High Five carving ice.

-The tasting method of wiping the back of the bar spoon on the back of the bartender's hand was taken from bartender Kayama Hiroyasu of Bar Ben Fiddich and his pupils. I got to see it live at Bar B&F in Shinjuku, and it's really amazing how fast and fluid it's done.

For reference, Capital Bar Shiro is written as follows:

都・バー・しろ

And Sasanuki Takahisa is written as follows:

笹貫貴永

Thanks for reading, please let me know what I'm doing right and wrong. Suzuran out~


End file.
